“Who’s Mila?”
His eyes changed. It was instant. A curtain dropped behind them. His entire face hardened.
“None of your fucking business.”
The coldness in his voice stung more than it should’ve. So I did what I always did when someone tried to shut me down—I provoked.
“One of your many whores?”
Wrong move.
He crossed the room in two strides. One hand wrapped around my throat—not choking, but firm. He walked me backward, forced me down onto the couch, and stood over me like judgment itself.
My breath caught. For a split second, fear fluttered in my chest.
“You insult my home. Then you insult the only girl I ever cared about.”
That line hit harder than his grip ever could.
The only girl he ever cared about.
My thoughts spiraled, heat rising fast and turning everything inside me sharp and restless. What about me? What about him stalking me, finding me, saving me?
Who the hell was she?
I hated her already. Hated that she existed in some deep part of him I hadn’t touched yet. Jealousy pulsed like venom through my chest, all tangled up with confusion and arousal and so much rage. My stomach twisted with it, but I still couldn’t look away.
His eyes burned into mine. Dark. Unforgiving.
“Keep that pretty mouth shut, Malaya. Or I’ll shut it for you.”
My stomach clenched. Heat pulsed low in my belly.
I looked up at him, defiant at first—but his gaze didn’t flinch. Just burned. “Too bad you’re not ready for what I’d do to you.”
He shoved me onto the couch and released my throat in the same breath, then turned without a word, strides heavy as he walked toward the hallway.
The air left my lungs.
Anger bloomed sharp and fast, searing beneath my breastbone.
I shot to my feet before the heat in my chest could cool. My steps echoed behind him, fast and reckless, catching him just as he reached his bedroom door.
“Of course,” I said, voice sharp. “Mila broke you, didn’t she?And now you can’t even fuck without picturing her, can you? Not unless Daddy’s watching and clapping in the background.”
He froze in the doorway.
“So much for the Reaper,” I sneered.
The words had barely left my mouth when he moved.
The bedroom door flung open with a sharp crack. Before I could blink, he spun and grabbed me by the front of the T-shirt I was wearing. His grip was rough, unrelenting. He dragged meinside, kicked the door shut behind us, and threw me onto the bed.
I barely registered the bounce of the mattress before his weight settled over me, firm and immovable. One hand stayed braced beside my head while the other reached for the nightstand drawer. A flash of metal. Cuffs.
Cold metal closed around my wrist with a sharp click. I had no time to react before the second cuff fastened, securing my other hand to the bedpost.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
